Death of Morgana Pendragon
by MadameMorganLeFay
Summary: Finally, the time had come for Morgana to die, fatally wounded by Arthur's sword. And the King did not have it inside him to allow her to die alone... And so he watched his sister fade away little by little until she was nothing. One-Shot.


**DEATH OF MORGANA PENDRAGON**

* * *

No one should fear that a beloved sibling was dead.

But Arthur did- and the woman in question was his half-sister whose broken body twitched occasionally in a bed of crisp, dead leaves on the forest floor, lying side by side with bloodied Excalibur. There was no reason for him to feel numb at all, although despite appearances, he had always been a little shaken after killing someone, enemy or not. And Morgana had certainly given him no reason to spare her, not for the past three years of plotting, invasions and three impromptu coronations... Yet as if none of that had ever happened, a strangled "no" slipped from his lips, and he was kneeling by her side before he had time to think.

"Morgana..."

Only the gentle patter of rain and the eerie whistle of an icy wind replied to his whispered plea... His tentative hand reached for her chalky, limp one- it was a cold, strange contact, proof of many years distance between them. At that moment, it was a sliver of comfort, for he knew he could feel some warmth under her skin.

Even if that only meant she wasn't dead yet.

Studying her, he realized there were still some strains of the lively young Ward he had known; even small indicators like the shape of her eyebrows, and tilt of her chin were the shadow of a softer heart and a kinder, brighter disposition. The rest were the marks of Dark Magic- he'd heard that she'd spent two years studying the blackest practices in the Grinchingoul Monastery hidden deep within desolate, icy Wastelands... These had brought a gentle heart to untold wickedness, for which so many innocents had paid for with their lives. If his own heart had been driven to hatred, he could hardly blame herself- how could one forgive such conduct?

There was no reason for him to be here, he reminded himself.

But his instincts told him otherwise...

"Morgana...are you...?"

"-Dead?"

Her agonised croak caught him unawares. When he had regained his composure, he was transfixed by the strength of her gaze; she had to be suffering- he could see that her stomach was almost perforated... Yet her eyes never left his, defiant in the midst of her fall...

Just like the Morgana he had always known. She had never backed down from a challenge- and her persistence had won her many grudging concessions... The sun could never have shone brighter than her smile when she knew she had won, and despite his sardonic, patronising jibes, he never held anything against her for it. Because although it had been a pantomime that outsiders failed to understand, it had belonged exclusively to them, brother and sister in a perpetual battle for perceived superiority... Or so they claimed.

Underneath it all, they knew that they only strived to please each other- for the love of the game, so to speak.

Who would have thought that years along the line, he would have fatally wounded her with the most powerful sword in the Kingdom?

"You know, when you used to say that you were going to kill me," she rasped with a tiny smirk, "...we both knew you never had the nerve... Except now. So, I guess... You win this round..."

He was rendered speechless by her ability to conjure up...humour at such a tragic moment. And somehow he loved her even more for retaining her charisma, even when she had grown to be feared. Because that was her essential nature- not a charade, but a leisurely game with as many hidden hands and clever plays as possible. It had been entertaining before it chilled his heart and those of his subjects. Laughter had melded into gasps, sun had become a thunderstorm.

Ironically, it was only now that he remembered she had never really changed in this essential respect. From here, better memories seeped into his mind, emerging from hiding. Her wit, her irritating chuckle, her optimistic view of life, and annoyingly truthful words... For someone who'd never been able to stomach being outwitted by a woman, he wished that he had dropped his ego more often to allow her to gloat. Siblings indulged the self-satisfaction of each other, didn't they?

It was too late for that, of course.

"I d-don't think that now is the time to be...dividing the spoils...so to speak?"

A small laugh escaped her parched lips, and he almost smiled in response until blood came bubbling out in its wake- then he was brought crashing back to reality. She hadn't long to live...because of him.

"That- that sword has magic...ironic, no?"

Arthur's head dropped as he nodded. Of course he had always known somehow. Having lived around war all his life, it was obvious from the start that there was no sword in the whole of Albion like Excalibur... That his miraculous survival had less to do with luck and more to do with some indelible form of protection, the scope of whose power he could only guess at. Like it or not, magic had been bound to him in ways that his father's totalitarian rules could never erase... And after a while, he had just come to accept what was part of him in his own quiet way. Few had seen this, but Morgana had that uncanny ability to see straight into the human mind, especially his.

"You don't leave any room for denial, do you, Morgana?"

A shallow gasp filled the air; her body grew restless, but he saw the way she winced every time she breathed... She was itching to move, and yet unable to. He'd never expected to see the day where Morgana Pendragon, or The Fay- the indomitable one- reduced to writhing on the ground, every breath draining her energy until the inevitable end.

"C-Can't you use...your magic?"

She shook her head, disconsolate, more blood seeping from her parted lips.

"As I said...you won..." Her voice was becoming quieter- there couldn't be long now... "Be sure to celebrate whilst you can..."

He shook his head, shivering from more than just the cold and found himself kneeling closer to her body, gently pushing back her hair from her face...

"Don't say that, Morgana... You know that I didn't... I never intended for..."

"I know... I know, you are apologetic, but I am still dying, so save it. You- you did what you had to do... Didn't you?"

There was nothing that could be said to such an indictment of his character... On second examination, the resignation in her voice seemed to suggest that she knew he was a better man than a mercenary...than her. Almost as though she accepted why they had been estranged in the first place. But then that was inevitable- what had she won, after years of festering hatred? Respect in some quarters, but that was easily overridden by justified anger... He'd heard of warlords putting a price on her head, and the Sarrum's actions- whilst barbaric and traumatic- had certainly been provoked...

"It is what I was driven to do. You...know that, don't you?"

She fixed him with an interminable gaze, before shaking her head wearily.

"Maybe. I cannot claim to have been a saint... But neither can you..."

"And yet I was never driven to murder people in a crazed desire for vengeance. Why, Morgana?"

"Not everyone is fortunate enough to be born a man, Arthur- you never failed to remind me of that yourself... When I was in the Monastery, I...became someone. An independent being defined by myself...something Uther never gave me..."

The Monastery- the amount of time she was rumoured to have spent their matched the time she had disappeared from Camelot. They had all feared the worst for her safety, but when she'd returned, it had been as though she was more confident of herself than ever before. Too late, he realized that her disappearance had been a trip and one of self-discovery... Yet she spoke as though it had been the best time of her life- he'd just have to accept it as such, if she wanted. It wasn't as though there was time to argue over such events now.

Except- if he didn't ask now, he might never know...

"What...what was the Monastery like, Morgana?"

For one rare, brief moment, his sister smiled smiled just as she would have done back in the old days. A cunning smile, but endearing all the same- bubbling with excitement and schemes.

"Tall, imposing... Locked in the iciest heartland of ice you ever saw... Guarded by giant wolf-dogs and hooded figures to keep order... And inside, there were levitating crystals, mystical smoke and hundreds, thousands of wonderful books on every mathematical subject you ever thought of- but all related to magic. Everything was surreal...but it was me. My life. My...talent; I finally saw myself for what it was."

"And...Morgause, she showed you..."

She sniffed, but failed to stop a tear or two leaking down her face. "My s-sister..."

And he said something he never would have expected to say: "I'm sorry...about what happened to her... Seeing that the same is about to...about to happen to me..."

When he glanced up, her eyes met his again, all vulnerability exposed. In fact, she was more curious at first before the real meaning of his words dawned on her.

"Even after all of this... I'm still...?"

"Unlike you, I cannot truly hate, Morgana. But then, I cannot forgive you for the pain you have caused."

Her vision was fully clouded by tears now, but somewhere her fingers found the strength to grip his- the contact weak, but reassuring.

"I... I suppose I never truly hated you.." Her voice was little more than a scratchy whisper, slightly obscured by the occasional cough, a slight shiver. Rain was tumbling down now, and there was little he could do to shield her from it... Except watch her fade away little by little until her name was a distant memory, a dark cloud as well as a ray of sunshine...somewhere... "And I suppose sitting alone inside the Castle of Grinchingoul could become lonely at times... Then the mind tends to drift for want of other entertainment... Beating you in duel after duel, riding out on quests, though you had insisted... That I stay, for my own protection..."

"A losing battle."

"Of course..." Another small smile. "You grew wise to your loss, though."

"Don't flatter yourself," he couldn't help adding quickly...and then it was back to old times again with a bittersweet twist. The last old time there would ever be- no more spirited arguments, no more competition, no more grudging gestures to hide a long-lasting affection. No more Morgana the Handful, The Smug, The Nasty Conniving Shrew- he had invented so many other names for her too.

"Arthur..." It was the first time she had actually used his name for years, and with no hint of malice or sarcasm... "You win. already.."

Her hands were getting cold, he noticed; death must be creeping up on her little by little. He wondered how she felt inside- was she trembling deep down? But that could never be Morgana...or was she bluffing even up to her last minute? Suddenly, there was so much he wanted to know, so many questions that he wanted answered. Just his luck that there had to be so little time for them to share together...

"Are you scared?"

"Of death? Never...except of dying alone, and...unloved. There- I said it."

"I barely heard you... You know, despite what you've done, I will still find a headstone if you want."

"Unmarked."

"As you wish..."

"You aren't obliged to- burn my body if you want."

"You are my sister."

A silence followed; they were both soaked throughout, and the piercing whistle of before had become a full-blown gale. He thought that she must be gone by now, but he felt her fingers twitch in his hand before he could lose hope entirely.

"How is Gwen?"

Again, he was caught off-guard, took a minute to process her question properly.

"She... She is fine..."

"I never meant to punish someone who did nothing wrong to me... So tell her that I am sorry, especially for the Dark Tower... It was...unspeakably cruel, I knew that even when I was taunting her with the mandrake-"

"Let us not speak of that," he cut in tightly- else he would remember why he had killed her in the first place...

"I...am sorry, knowing how much you love her. The same never happened for me, except... Well, Merlin..."

Arthur had lost the ability to be surprised at anything, and so made no comment. He nodded in what he hoped was sympathetic enough; it would be better just to listen and understand rather than to question her- she wanted to talk, and he couldn't afford to stop her.

"I have never been able to help it, but I ruined everything and... Well, it is too late, of course... I could never really have hurt him the way I did..."

Now that he thought of it, perhaps Merlin had loved her too; he'd always wondered about the strange flicker of sadness in his manservant's eyes whenever her name had been brought up... Uninterested in the cause, it had been easy to pass up such an emotion as due to a broken friendship, but there was too much depth to Merlin's expression for the cause to be platonic...

"And Mordred... Look after him. He is but a boy... Should never have changed allegiances, but I could always see he was willing to forgive you... So please take him back..."

"If... If you want."

"Just think... I will get to see our mother... And Morgause, Elaine..."

"And Gorlois," he reminded her softly; she nodded eagerly. A sharp stab of nostalgia struck recalling the mother that he would never have any memory of... But one day, she had held a tiny Morgana for the first time, perhaps shown her off proudly to her sisters, her husband...

"She was... A good mother, wasn't she?"

"The best- I am sorry that you never... Never saw her..."

"One day, it will be my turn." It was one hope to cling to- and in that future life, he would find the real Morgana again. Because some good things came of an end, didn't they?

"And for you..." Here she opened her eyes to meet his again in an honest, tearful gaze... "For you I can only say that I am...angry, confused, betrayed..."

She paused to take one final, shuddering breath, channelling all of her energy into her final clause:

"Angry, confused, betrayed...but sorry. Sorry for hurting...my brother..."

And with that dramatic statement, Morgana Pendragon closed her eyes for the final time.

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**FINIS**

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**NOTES:** References to the Monastery are from the traditional tale of Morgan Le Fay. The legend goes that her elder sisters were Morgause and Elain by Ygraine- hence mentioning heir mother. Very sad tale, but I like the idea of Morgana atoning for her sins, and reconciling with her brother.


End file.
